


All Sorts of Compunctions

by leafingbookstea



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 2016 Ficathon Repost, F/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafingbookstea/pseuds/leafingbookstea
Summary: Ficathon Prompt: Phrack cross paths on the way to/from London in some random place along the route. Smutty reunion of course. An issue with their travel arrangements. Jack is at a bar nursing a whiskey and cursing his luck and in walks Phryne.





	1. Jack

**Author's Note:**

> Original Notes: My best, superficial, internet research suggests that these places and modes of travel existed in 1929/30. Apologies for any inadvertent anachronisms. The title comes from “Poor Fellows” a poem by Pablo Neruda. You can find a translation here https://poemsunited.org/poem/poor-fellows/
> 
> Notes addendum: I thought I had already reposted this fic, but during my fic reading marathon these last six weeks, I discovered I hadn't.
> 
> I don't recall who the prompter was for this fic, so please identify yourself in comments and I will gift it to you again. Thank you!

**DECEMBER 1, 1929**

**TO: MRS. HUGH COLLINS**

**221B THE ESPLANADE**

**ST.KILDA, MELBOURNE, VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA**

**FROM: THE HONORABLE MISS PHRYNE FISHER**

**CLARIDGE HOTEL, MAYFAIR**

**LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM**

 

DOT

ARRIVED SAFELY LONDON **STOP** YES FATHER STILL ALIVE WITH MOTHER AGAIN **STOP** TELL JACK STAY PUT I AM COMING HOME

PHRYNE

 

**DECEMBER 2, 1929**

**TO: MR. JACK ROBINSON**

**SS ORFORD**

**FROM: MRS. HUGH COLLINS**

**221B THE ESPLANADE**

**ST.KILDA, MELBOURNE, VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA**

 

INSPECTOR

MISS PHRYNE COMING HOME **STOP** HURRY BACK **EXCLAMATION**

DOT

 

                  Jack crumpled the telegram in his hand and let out a curse he hadn’t used since the War. The steward who delivered it visibly blushed. Jack mumbled an apology, tipped him and walked outside to the row of deck chairs. Stuffing the now wrinkled paper into his coat pocket, he sat down in the closest chair, putting his head in his hands.

                  It seemed like a good idea at the time. _Come after me_ , she had said. So he did just that. From the moment her plane was no longer visible, he began to make plans. He returned to the station and asked his Russell Street superiors for the leave long owed him. He hadn’t asked for a vacation in almost ten years. The possibility of finally surprising Miss Fisher was too good to pass up.

                  He was going to meet her in London. He wanted to celebrate her birthday with her, making new memories and attempting, perhaps, to ease the pain of past birthdays if he could. He had never celebrated Christmas during the winter, the Christmases in France during the War were meager and he could barely use the word “celebration” to define them, so maybe Christmas in London too. Return home by boat at New Year’s and ring in 1930 together.

                  Of course, there had been other things to consider. Would he be welcomed? Would she think the risk to his career was too great and be cross with him for making the journey? Or would she greet him with open arms and think his arrival the better romantic overture than contrasting her with a telescope? If he had learned only one thing in the last few years, it was this; with Phryne Fisher, one should always expect the unexpected.

                  Once they returned to Melbourne, then what? Would they remain friends and partners only? Become lovers? Jack certainly wished for the later, but would it be the quick, bright flame of a short dalliance or could Phryne want more with him? He was certain that Phryne knew he loved her, held hope that she returned his feelings, but would not be sure until he saw her again.

                  Before now, he had thought the most difficult part of the journey was the delay in leaving Melbourne. Cooling his heels at City South for the better part of a month, awaiting the departure of the next ship to London, tried even Jack Robinson’s ever-present unflappability. He wanted to resume what they started in that airfield. To kiss her, feel again her lithe body in his arms.

                  What would it be like to make love to Phryne Fisher? Would they make love or would it be merely sex for her? Contrary to what he would like her to believe sometimes, he was not made of stone. His passions did run deep and his imagination ignited at thoughts of being with Phryne. He had thought of so many scenarios, often at the most inconvenient times and frequently taking himself in hand to get some relief.

                  Phryne didn’t want marriage and Jack wasn’t good at it. His marriage to Rosie proved that. Commitment, maybe? But what did that mean to Phryne Fisher? He wasn’t sure if he knew how to define that for himself either. What he did know is that didn’t want to be one of the many, here one day and gone the next, he wanted to be in her life. Her friendship and partnership were important to him and he didn’t want that to fall apart because of one gaudy night.

                  These hypotheticals were going to drive him mad. He had to talk to Phryne. He had to see her, face to face, but first, he had to _wait_ to get to her. It made him agitated and restless.

Jack’s patience was, under normal circumstances, a part of his being. It was the perseverance that allowed him to observe suspects and watch for that telltale mistake that solved the puzzle of each investigation. It was the forbearance he displayed while waiting for green, young constables like Hugh Collins to catch on and gain the wisdom that only comes with experience. It was the stamina required for the slow and close wooing of Phryne Fisher, all the more exciting because of the unpredictable element of Miss Fisher herself.

Now that patience was about to be punished rather than rewarded. He was too late with his surprise. She was going home. _Returning home to me_ , he thought wryly, _and I won’t be there to welcome her._

The air on the deck was colder now. Jack realized he had been sitting and brooding on an outside deck chair for the better part of an hour. And Jack Robinson didn’t brood, or at least tried to convince himself he didn’t; he made plans. He needed to work out a solution that would return him to Melbourne before she got there. He buttoned his coat closed against the cold and returned to his cabin. The next port of call was Naples; he was sure to find return transport there.

 


	2. Phryne

The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher was normally not one to be annoyed with travel delays. When things didn’t go according to plan or schedule, she viewed it as merely a detour into another possible adventure. She began her journey home to Melbourne in luxury and comfort, albeit a bit of boredom, aboard the Orient Express. Not a single murder or mysterious happening on this marvelous train. She supposed the grand locomotive was too elegant for anything so common as death. Ah well, she thought, without Jack here, the investigation would not be nearly so much fun.

Phryne sipped champagne in her compartment and thought of Jack. To her surprise, a trace of his kiss still lingered on her lips, even after all these months. She told herself at first that his kiss remained because there had been no dalliances to replace the image of him running to her in that airfield, meeting her halfway. Not many opportunities or time for such pleasant activities. Traveling across the world in a small plane with one’s father would put a damper on anyone’s sexual appetite, even one as impressive as Phryne Fisher’s. 

Then, when they finally arrived in England, her focus had been on sorting out her parents’ finances, and hers, leaving Henry and Margaret alone to sort out their marriage. Most of her own investments were in good order, she had some losses in American stocks, but her investments were diverse enough that should America’s financial troubles spread to other parts of the world, she would still be able to live quite comfortably and continue to provide for her small staff, her little family at Wardlow.

As for her parents, Phryne met with their solicitors and agents and, after much persuading and negotiation on Phryne’s part, succeeded in rearranging her parent’s finances to her mother’s control. Margaret Fisher was a clever woman when it came to money, she managed to stretch the household budgets both in Collingwood and in Somerset, and it was obvious to both Fisher women that Henry could no longer be trusted with the accounts. The Baron, for his part, ranted and raved, but he finally acquiesced at his wife’s insistence, really an ultimatum. 

But none of these distractions were the true reason she hadn’t found a new liaison or two in her travels. The true reason was Jack. She loved him. She loved him while she had still been in Melbourne, though she hadn’t been ready to admit that to herself or anyone else, especially not to Jack. 

She knew why, of course. The last time she gave her heart to someone, he treated it like rubbish to be chucked in a bin and forgotten. To Rene Dubois, love was a weapon, a way to control Phryne and crush her spirit. Now that he was dead, she could finally admit to herself how close he came to destroying her completely. Had she not escaped when she did, he would have succeeded.

Jack was different from any man she had ever known. At first, he seemed immune to her charms and flirtatious nature, but that, she soon realized, was due to his honorable character and his commitment to his marriage vows. After his divorce, she could see his desire plainly in his eyes, but their friendship and investigative partnership became more important to them both. After Gerty’s murder, he all but admitted that he loved her and it scared her. She wanted to continue to play and flirt, she didn’t want Jack to be another man who would try to possess her. He said he didn’t want to change her and she wanted to believe him, but she could not fully trust it at the time. Her head wouldn’t believe what her heart was saying; she was falling in love with Jack Robinson. 

Mac would tell her she was being a coward. Taking this trip, not for her parents’ sake, but to run away from her feelings for Jack. Phryne Fisher was not a coward. She still couldn’t say the words to Jack, but she made her romantic overture and willed him to get the message. His kiss said he did.

Ah, that kiss, she thought, how many more surprises do you have in store for me, Jack Robinson? She was certain Jack would be a passionate lover. She was impatient to get him out of those suits he wore like armor, touch the lean muscles of his arms and his strong thighs. She wanted to discover all the parts that were hidden from her by his Queenscliff bathing costume, explore the body she had seen briefly when he had been out cold in her bed. She wanted to feel his arms around her again, the touch of his long fingers gently stroking her neck. She began to touch her neck with her own fingers, stroking down her breastbone, moving to her thighs. Like she had many times in the past month, she substituted her own hands where she most desired Jack’s instead. Her frustration with not having Jack here made her impatience to go home to him that much stronger.

“Mademoiselle Fisher,” called the train steward from the other side of the door “your dinner seating is for eight o’clock. The dress gong just rang.”

“Merci” she called back. She sighed in frustration and began to dress for dinner.


	3. Naples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Italian is rusty, so I need to rely on Google Translate a bit more than I would like. Oh, and contrary to historical rumor, Mussolini did not “make the trains run on time.” And one more thing: sorry, not sorry for the length of this chapter. Feel free to tell me what you think of me in the comments, I can take it.

Phryne was rarely cross and impatient. Today, she was both. Not with the Orient Express or the lack of investigations, but with Signore Mussolini and his trains that ran anything but on time. She had left the Orient Express in Milan to journey to Naples and try out the new passenger service with Imperial Airways. If things had gone to schedule, she would have been in a boat plane by now instead of having to spend two nights in that port city awaiting the next flight.

Phryne was now on yet another Italian train, but at least it was the final one. She would stay at a hotel for two nights, and maybe explore a bit. Perhaps find some little nightspot for a drink. Someplace where she could be more active and not be left alone with her thoughts about Jack.

_Jack_ , she sighed. Imagining their reunion raised her blood pressure in a much more pleasant way than the seemingly endless pauses in her journey. Her body suffused with warmth recalling his hand at her waist, his kiss, and the surprised smirk he couldn’t hide when she asked him to come after her. While she wanted to tell him what she felt, she didn’t really expect him to chase her halfway around the world. Could he get away without losing his job? For that matter, could City South even run without him? She found it difficult to imagine.

Finally reaching Naples, she stepped off the train and found a taxicab to take her to her hotel. Phryne decided her best option was to send a telegram to Jack. She had only sent one to Dot so far, and she didn’t want him to think she had forgotten him. As if she could.

 

* * *

 

 

                  “ _Un altro, per favore_ ,”[1] Jack said to the bartender, asking for another drink. Maybe his luck was starting to change at last. After a week in this city, he finally managed to find a bar that would serve him whiskey without arguing with the bartender about why he would want to drink _pisciare Scozzese*_ [2] when the house grappa was better. Of course, it would have to be in one of the most expensive hotels in town, but Jack didn’t really mind that so much. In a strange way, it made him feel like he was in Phryne’s parlour at Wardlow, as much as he could be in a room without her in it. The elegantly upholstered club chairs in the lounge area were of a similar style to the ones in her parlour, though there were many more of them here, stationed in threes and fours around the room.

                  The bar itself was quiet, it was well before cocktail hour, and Jack could clearly hear the voices of the desk clerk and guests checking in from the lobby next to the bar.

                  He heard a staccato tapping of heels on the marble that reminded him of the footsteps of a certain lady detective, but he knew he was imagining things. It was the same imaginings he had at City South in those first days after she left. But it couldn’t be her. He didn’t even bother to look up, keeping his gaze on his drink.

 

* * *

 

 

Phryne arrived at the Grand Hotel Vesuvio well before the cocktail hour. The elderly doorman opened the cab door and greeted her while snapping his fingers at the young bellhop near the entrance. A uniformed teenage boy pulled the four small bags (one must travel light in a Tiger Moth) out of taxi and led her inside.

                  Her heels tapped a staccato rhythm on the lobby’s marble floors that led to the concierge desk. She noticed a bar off to one side of the lobby and thought a drink would help to remove the last of the day’s irritations from her mind. But she wanted to send a telegram first.

                  “Buon pomeriggio, Il mio nome è Phryne Fisher[3],” she greeted the desk clerk.

                  “Buon pomeriggio, Signorina Fisher,” replied the clerk, “La vostra stanza sarà pronta a breve.[4]”

                  Bene, io aspetterò nel salone,“ She answered, “Ho anche bisogno di inviare un telegramma.[5]”

                  “Si, Signornia” nodded the clerk as he looked up at someone standing behind her.

                  “No need to send a telegram, Miss Fisher,” said a deep voice in her ear, “I got your message.”

 

 

_[1] Another, please_

_[2] Scottish piss_

_[3] Good Afternoon, My name is Phryne Fisher._

_[4] Your room is almost ready._

_[5] Good, I’ll wait in the bar. I also need to send a telegram._


	4. Phrack Already!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you (and Phrack) have waited long enough.

                  “Jack!” Phryne exclaimed, turning quickly on her heel. She resisted the urge to throw her arms around his neck. “How…?”

                  “Phryne,” Jack’s mouth held that signature small smile of his when she did something to amuse him, but his eyes held a burning desire and… relief? “You told me to come after you…”

                  “Since when do you listen to me?”

                  “I always listen, Miss Fisher, it is my obedience that is absent.”

                  Phryne’s smile grew with every word out of his mouth. He was here! In Naples! She fought the desire to ravish him where he stood, but they were in a very public lobby.

                  “Not absent, Jack, simply atrophied from lack of use.” Oh, how he missed that naughty twinkle in her eye.

                  Jack couldn’t believe it was really Phryne, here, now. He had been so anxious to get home, to be there to meet her. He wondered what was stopping him from kissing her right now, and then he looked around at where they were.

                  Their eyes met and they shared a chagrined look. Neither of them desired a reunion with an audience. They both heard the polite cough from the desk clerk behind Phryne.

                  “Signorina Fisher, la vostra camera è pronta. Il fattorino è in attesa presso l'ascensore con i bagagli. Avete ancora desidera inviare un telegramma?”[1]

                  “No, mille grazi.” She smiled to the clerk and took Jack’s hand, leading him to the elevator.

                  They followed the bellboy and stood behind him in the cage elevator. Phryne had a dozen questions but was slightly distracted by the slow stroking on her hand by Jack’s thumb.

                  “How long have you been here? Where have you been staying? How did you get here?” Her questions tumbled out all at once, “How did you know I would be here?”

                  Jack’s amused smile returned, “About a week. A small pensione not far from here. The usual way for people who are not Phryne Fisher, an ocean liner. And I didn’t, but I’m so glad I found you before I left.” He raised the hand he had been caressing to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the backs of her fingers. “Mrs. Collins sent me a telegram while I was at sea. I was awaiting the next ship home in the hope of getting there before you did, though my delay here was making that less likely.”

                  The elevator came to a stop and they followed the bellboy to Phryne’s room. Phryne tipped the boy, shut the door behind him and locked it.

                  “No more interruptions, Jack, no more delays.” Phryne turned and walked into Jack waiting arms.

                  They kissed in a way they never had before. Their tongues met, retreated, and met again to dance together. Phryne’s hands were in Jack’s hair, setting the thick waves free from the pomade. Jack’s hands were everywhere at once; her back, her derrière, the side of her thigh as he hitched up the dress and coat she was still wearing.

                  His lips moved to her cheek, then down her neck. Phryne tilted her head back to give him greater access. When he suckled at a spot just below her right ear, she moaned and her eyes rolled back in sensuous pleasure.

                  Her hands moved down to start on his buttons. Her moan of pleasure became a groan of frustration. Jack lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

                  “No, Jack. You’re wearing too many clothes.” She heard his low chuckle and helped him remove his coat and tie. Phryne removed her own coat and cloche. She went back to the buttons on his shirt and waistcoat, while Jack fumbled a bit before finding the side closure of Phryne’s dress. He sat down on a nearby chair to remove his shoes and socks, while she shimmed a bit and let her dress fall to the floor, leaving her in shoes, stockings and her smalls.

                  He looked up while she removed her camisole and bandeau. She was so beautiful. He stood up to touch first with his fingers, then his mouth, all she had revealed to him. He traced her collarbone with his tongue, gave open-mouthed kisses to first one breast, then the other. Phryne moved her hands down his lean arms, removing his waistcoat, then shirt, leaving his braces to fall to either side of his hips. While he explored her, she explored more of him, though she kept being distracted by his lips and hands on various parts of her body.

                  Jack laved one of her nipples, swirling his tongue around it to bring it into his mouth. Phryne hands returned to his head to bringing him closer, telling him with the sounds she was making how much she wanted him, how good he felt to her. His hand continued on to her other nipple, lightly pinching and teasing before his lips and tongue paid their homage.

                  Jack was already feeling his trousers becoming tighter, his cock hardening and Phryne had barely touched him yet. Her mewling cries inflamed him. Jack looked down and started to unhook Phryne’s garters, then reconsidered. With one finger, he traced the skin of her thigh between her stockings and knickers. He heard Phryne’s soft gasp when he moved up and ghosted his fingers across the center of her silk undergarments, already damp with her arousal. He pushed the material to one side and with one long finger, slid into the hot, wet slit. Her gasp turned to a moan when Jack found a particularly sensitive spot. He caressed her inner walls with his fingers while his thumb rubbed the side of her clit. When he found a particularly soft spot near the front, Phryne keened and came apart in his arms. He held tight to her waist with one arm while the fingers of his other hand continued their task for a few more strokes before slowing down to soft caresses and, finally withdrawing.

                  Phryne legs felt boneless as Jack lifted her into his arms and set her gently on the bed. She watched him lick the fingers of his hand that had, moments ago, been inside her. He closed his eyes and moaned, relishing the taste of her. He lay down beside her and his lips returned to her neck. His glorious voice vibrated near her ear, “I want to taste you until you come again, Phryne. May I?”

                  Phryne was momentarily stunned. None of her previous lovers had ever asked permission before. Either she had to suggestively direct them or the thought never occurred to them, or they point blank refused. She didn’t allow the last group to continue and, politely of course, showed them the door. She always felt sex should be pleasurable for both parties or what was the point? She never expected Jack to be in a category all his own. She should have known better by now.

                  “Oh yes, Jack,” she replied, kissing his shoulder, “Although you are still wearing far too many clothes. I expect a man to be naked when he is attending to the more delicate parts of my body.”

                  Jack stood up at the foot of the bed and began to remove his belt, braces, trousers, and smalls. Phryne moved to a kneeling position on the bed and brought her hands up to help him. She dipped her hand into his smalls and cupped him gently with one hand and wrapped the fingers of her other hand around his long, thickening shaft.

                  She moved her fingers slowly up and down his cock. Once. Twice. Jack let his clothing fall to the floor, not caring at this point what condition they would be in by morning.

                  He covered her hand with his to still her movements. “Please,” he said, quietly “I won’t last.”

                  She smiled up at him. “Very well, Jack. This time. There is also one another matter that needs our attention.”

                  Jack wasn’t sure what she was referring to at first. Then he watched her get up from the bed and remove a small, black, clamshell case from one of her bags near the door.

                  “Miss Fisher, how on earth did you manage to rescue your ‘internal device’ from the City South Evidence Room?” His lips twitched waiting for the answer.

                  “Inspector!” Phryne turned to him with her hands on her hips, “Do you really think I could use that particular device for its intended purpose ever again? I procured a new one from Mac after the tennis tournament.”

                  “Of course.” Jack picked up the clothing he had discarded earlier and laid them more carefully on a nearby chair while Phryne put the case on the nightstand and removed her shoes, and the rest of her lingerie. She returned to the bed, and Jack picked up the case and opened it.

                  “Will you show me how to put this inside you?” he asked.

                  She kissed him tenderly, again touched that he wanted to do this for her. Yet another thing previous lovers had never offered. She took the rubber disc out the case and pinched the ends together to demonstrate. He took the device from her hand and put it back in the case, setting it on the bed, kissing her while he did so.

                  Jack moved his hands over her body, now completely naked to his gaze, as he was to hers. Her hands roamed his chest, arms and back while he bent down to kiss her breasts and stomach. He trailed kisses down her hip to the top of her thigh, edging down to the inside of one thigh before switching to the other, skipping the apex completely.

                  Phryne sat up on her elbows and watched Jack, her breathing becoming shallower with each press of his lips to her inner thighs. Gently separating her folds with his fingers, Jack looked up and locked eyes with Phryne, his tongue sweeping from her entrance to her clit in one long motion.

                  Phryne moaned while Jack continued to pleasure her. She panted when he alternated between quick flicks to her clit and caressing her labia with his tongue. Oh yes, Jack had a very talented mouth.

                  Jack could not get enough of the taste of Phryne. Her scent was a heady mixture of her French perfume, musk and some exotic essence that was uniquely her. Her core became slick under his ministrations, soon she would climax again and wanted to taste it all.

                  “Jaaacckk!” Phryne cried out. She came, and saw stars exploding behind her eyelids. Jack savored her orgasm, lapping up her essence. He reached over and inserted her internal device, giving her clit one final swipe with his softened tongue.

                  He rose up to lie beside her; she rolled to her side and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. She snaked her hand down to touch herself and covered Jack’s cock with her wetness. She sat up to straddle him, sliding herself up and down his hard shaft, but not yet taking him inside her.

                  Jack groaned at the feeling of her slick heat coating him. “Please, Phryne,” he entreated, “don’t tease.”

                  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Jack” positioning herself to bring him inside her at last.

                  He allowed himself only a moment of stillness to feel Phryne all around him. Her incredible heat round his cock was almost enough to send him into oblivion. He opened his eyes, watching her move on him, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Their hands were clasped on both sides of Jack’s body and his eyes again met hers.

                  Phryne moved in an undulating rhythm with Jack deep inside her. She felt him everywhere. In his eyes she saw the intensity of his love for her, the depth of it. Her eyes began to tear up from the beauty of what she saw. She increased her tempo to bring him to his peak, his hips thrusting up to meet her halfway, like he always did.

                  “Oh fuck… Phryne!” He surged deep into her, his voice deeper still. The low sound from him brought on her own climax, not so intense as the first two but still blissful.

                  Phryne collapsed on to Jack’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her while their breathing returned to normal. She could hear his heartbeat, still fast but slowing down. He kissed her tenderly, their bodies slick with sweat. Phryne began to slide off him, curling up at his side, one shapely leg resting on his thigh. 

 

_[1] Miss Fisher, your room is ready. The bellboy is waiting at the elevator with the luggage. Do you still want to send a telegram?_


	5. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometime later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I posted the last chapter, but that was not the case! Forgive me, there was this convention in Portland and I am still recovering. LOL!

                  Phryne woke sometime later with her head still upon Jack’s chest, his breathing steady. She looked up to watch him as he slept only to find he was watching her, the moonlight casting a shadow across his forehead.

                  “Hello,” he said with a small smile.

                  “Hello, Jack,” she replied, stretching up to place a soft kiss on his lips, “I am still amazed you are here.”

                  “Why is that, Miss Fisher?” his smile becoming a grin, “we have been moving toward this for some time.”

                  “You know what I mean.” Her sigh of exasperation didn’t match the smile in her eyes, “And I’m not sure how I feel about you calling me ‘Miss Fisher’ when we are both _sans vêtements_.”

                  “My suit is on the chair if you prefer …”

                  “You will do no such thing! I believe we may have missed dinner.”

                  Jack reached for his watch on the nightstand. His stomach growled and Phryne giggled.

                  “You see? Your stomach agrees with me.”

                  “It is just past nine, so not too late. However, if we are going to dinner, I need to return to the pensione for a change of clothes.”

                  “You need to return to check out. You are staying with me.”

                  “Am I? Bella Angelina will be so disappointed.”

                  Phryne sat up and crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up slightly, and capturing Jack’s gaze.

                  “And just who is Bella Angelina?” she asked, indignant.

                  Jack reached up to touch one breast, but Phryne moved just out of his reach.

                  “She is the owner of the pensione. They call her Bella Angelina for her beautiful singing voice.” He tried again and she stood up, pulling a robe out of her bag. “She is 70 years old and says I don’t eat enough.”

                  Returning to the bed, she kissed him, biting his lip slightly and pulling away. “That was naughty of you, Jack. You know I am jealous of Italian women who want to feed you.”

                  “Do I? That is a surprising admission, coming from you, Phryne.” Jack’s brow rose slightly at her words. “Do you really want me to stay here? With you?”

                  “Yes, Jack. Two nights here, then we travel home. Together.”

                  “Then what happens?”

                  “Then we go home and Mr. Butler feeds you and we solve all the murders that have happened since we left.” She paused a moment, considering “Do you still have a job?”

                  “No, I thought I’d give it up for a life on the stage.” Phryne’s eyes narrowed as she caught Jack’s smirk “Yes, I only took a leave of absence. I need to be back by Anniversary Day.”

                  “I still say you missed your calling. Surely, someone must be performing Shakespeare between here and Melbourne? If not Gilbert and Sullivan.”

                  “Phryne,” he held her arms lightly, turning her to look at him, “You know what I meant. What happens with us?”

                  She hesitated before answering with a question, “Is there an ‘us’?”

                  Jack prepared himself for her answer, “Do you want there to be?”

                  “More than anything.” And she kissed him.


End file.
